


Five Useful Signs When Dating Charles Xavier (a down under remix)

by letosatie



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Fluff, M/M, Mute!charles, Muteness, Remix, Sign Language, Smitten Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letosatie/pseuds/letosatie
Summary: Erik meets a fascinating mute boy and rapidly discovers sign language is useful.





	Five Useful Signs When Dating Charles Xavier (a down under remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BadLuckBlueEyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadLuckBlueEyes/gifts).
  * Inspired by [5 Times Charles Had Nothing To Say and 1 Time He Did](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5323562) by [BadLuckBlueEyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadLuckBlueEyes/pseuds/BadLuckBlueEyes). 



> This is not A.S.L. or B.S.L. so don't freak out sign fluent folk.

**1\. Stay**  
Erik’s late. He’s watching the path to avoid ice and a tumble or slush and wet socks. He doesn’t expect some idiot to stop in the middle of the busy walkway.

They crash.

The smaller man in front of him is shunted forward onto his knees and books scatter from his arms into a random dot diagram.

Not that Erik cares. “Why would anyone stop in a walkway?” Erik doesn’t remember when he started yelling but it feels good so he keeps it up. “This is a path traversed for the express purpose of getting to class, not whatever you were doing, and I’ll be late. Again!”

There’s no response and Erik’s words melt like the flakes on his cheeks.

The man looks up. He smiles.

What is this bizarre man doing? “Aren’t you going to apologize?” Erik asks him. The man picks Erik’s hat up, dusts it off offers it back. Erik takes it but he doesn’t really understand what’s happening. The man smiles, and it makes him look so young, and something odd happens in Erik’s head. The worry he usually lives with retracts its claws and the thrill of a new puzzle flints to a flame. 

Erik fetches the books but when the man turns to leave, Erik follows. “What building are you going to?” he asks.

The man points.

“Me too. Do you talk?” Erik wonders, as they start to walk again.

The man smiles and shakes his head. It’s not the same smile, though the curve of his lips is the same, his eyes make Erik sigh rather than sing.

Erik is desperate to fix it.

He offers cafeteria food, apologies, complicity, remorse, company. The man pulls a dog-eared notebook out of his pocket and writes a note, letting Erik off the hook, and makes to leave again.

Erik drags a memory up from time spent with his deaf cousin. He gets the man’s attention, makes a fist of all his fingers but the index, with which he makes a hook, and makes a short motion towards the ground. _Stay_.

And, oh, if Erik thought the man had a luminescent face before… Erik would sign any word, would spend his considerable cache of determination making that degree of joy stay on this face. The man repeats the sign, frowning and shaking his head, indicating he _can’t stay_. He signs _sorry_ , seeming to genuinely be so. Erik, out of ideas, lets him leave.

 

 **2\. Which**  
Erik can’t stop himself from pursuing the young man from the path. He bumps into him, again and again, until he gets a coffee date and a name. He is called Charles, this fulcrum around which all of Erik’s focus and energy has become centered. When Charles finally points to himself and then signs _stay_ , Erik’s next breath is relief and a reverent תודה לאל.

Charles tucks his fingers into his palm leaving the thumb and little finger extended. He furrows his brow and moves his hand side to side a few times, signing _which_? 

“St David,” says Erik. “Unless you have time to go for sandwiches?”

Charles signs _I have time_. His infectious smile is back. 

Erik talks during the walk there, Charles nodding and smiling in response. They join the queue at the sandwich place. _Which_? Erik signs. Charles points to his choice. After Erik orders, Charles mouths, ‘kosher?’ Erik ducks his head. “Mostly,” he says with a shamefaced smirk.

Charles is so easy to be with. Erik is thrilled to secure another date and then another. On the fourth date, he arrives at Charles’ dorm intending to make dinner. _Which_? Charles signs, but Erik ignores Charles’ dorm kitchen and refuses to cook in his flat kitchen -mainly to avoid his flatmates and the layer of Uni student grime- and takes him on the 19 bus to his childhood home. They are alone there and Erik comes back from depositing the shopping bags in the kitchen to find Charles in front of a set of baby photos. _Which_? signs Charles. Erik’s face heats a little as he tells Charles which babies are him and which are Ruth. He seats Charles at the tiny kitchen table and sets about cooking while talking nonstop about the process. This is a pattern they have settled into. Erik talks, he’s always been a bit of a monologist anyway. Charles signs, pulling out his notebook if Erik’s understanding falls short, or mouthing one or two words occasionally.

Erik puts a glass in front of Charles, opens the fridge door and signs _which_? Charles points to fruit juice and Erik pours them both a glass and goes back to play-by-play cooking. He is surprised but relieved Charles hasn’t asked where his family is tonight. He knew they were away with Ruth for field hockey. He’s ready to be vulnerable and show Charles where he is from, but Charles is too new and precious to share with anyone, let alone the family that will use the crack in Erik’s shell to get right into the guts of everything Erik is feeling for his mute love.

There’s a moment of pause in the recipe, waiting with the timer on until the next step is needed. Erik sits at the table with Charles and they each hold the other’s gaze. Charles feels no pressure from silence and Erik talks a lot when he has something to say, but he doesn’t just now, is content to view Charles without the cloud of assumed image that’s always projected with conversation. Erik had a girlfriend in high school and when he’d look at her she’d always ask, “What?” and look away. Charles looks back. They just look. There is nothing to solve by the looking; it’s just a lovely sight.

Charles’ face is painted with disappointment when the timer goes off and Erik has to leap up and complete the meal. Erik narrates the rest of the process. 

When Erik sets the matzo ball soup in front of Charles, his appreciation is plain. Is Erik getting skilled at reading Charles? Or has Charles developed an expressive face as an adaption. They eat in silence. Erik appreciates being able to devote all his senses to his food.

Charles puts his spoon down.

“Would you like more?” Erik checks. Charles shakes his head while moving his cupped hand from his his chest in a curve, signing _No more_. Then he mouths, ‘Thank you.’

 

 **3\. More**  
Erik wakes up on the couch with Charles sleeping on his chest. Erik had asked Charles over for a movie and then fallen asleep. The screen is suggesting a new movie or offering the chance to go back to the beginning of the movie Erik can’t remember anything of. 

He jerks enough that Charles is jolted awake. 

Charles regards Erik. He doesn’t ask if Erik is okay or if he should go. He trusts Erik to say if something needs to be said. 

There is nothing that needs saying.

Erik kisses him. Charles kisses back. Erik is spinning; he’s in a flat spin, he can’t find up or down, he doesn’t know what’s next and he can’t remember before. There’s Charles though, the utter eclipsing of each of Erik’s senses. They have snapped, over taxed. All Erik tastes and smells and hears and feels and sees is Charles. 

Something is tapping on Erik’s collarbone. He looks down. Somehow he is lying on Charles. Somehow one of Charles’ hands is fastened to the couch by one of Erik’s; the other is moving from Charles’ chest to Erik, signing, _More, more, more_.

Erik stands up and helps Charles to his feet. “Bed?” he asks. Charles smiles and nods, so Erik tows him behind him down the hall to his room.

In the morning, Charles waves his coffee mug at Erik and questions, _More_?

Erik blushes, immediately flush with memories of Charles so sweet and sparking under him. His thoughts must be obvious because Charles puts the mug down and climbs in Erik’s lap to concentrate on more important things.

They are interrupted by Azazel who shows them photos of Erik and Charles asleep on the couch the previous night, Erik’s head tipped back and Charles’ nose tipped into Erik’s neck. Erik makes a big deal about rights of privacy and threatens revenge. 

After Charles has gone home, Erik gets Azazel in a headlock until he transfers the jpg files over to Erik’s laptop. He chooses the best shot for his screensaver.

 

 **4\. Stop**  
Angel calls Erik’s name across the Leith, so he stops and waits for her to cross the tiled bridge and catch up. 

“Babe, have you seen your boyfriend today?” she asks him instead of saying hello.

Erik loves to hear people say boyfriend when they are talking about Charles. It’s such a clap on the back, a ‘good job, Lehnsherr’. 

“He looks terrible, really sick,” Angel tells him, and glee stops bubbling warm in Erik’s chest and starts to congeal instead.

“Know where he is?”

“He was hiding in Robertson Library,” says Angel.

Erik doesn’t even stop to consider why Charles has strayed from the science library, or the central one. He claps Angel’s shoulder in thanks and races along Union Street. He does side step to pluck a daffodil from the berm, but otherwise he jogs the whole way.

Charles is bunkered down in one of the booths, his bags and spare books spread around the orange banquette seats. He seems to be studying, but everything about him seems heavy. He’s covered in his duffel coat and his scarf, bent over a book as if his bones couldn’t support the weight of his sinuses. Erik eyes him. How far can Charles walk? Probably as far as his dorm, but it’s single and tiny. Not as far as Erik’s flat and definitely not up that lung-busting hill. Erik texts Azazel. He’ll just have to owe a favour. 

Erik sits opposite him and waves the daffodil in his line of sight. Charles’ face brightens but it’s like the sun dampened by glutted clouds.

“Break time?” says Erik as temptingly as he can. Charles shakes his head very mildly and pulls his book closer. “Come on,” Erik tries. Charles holds up his hand, _Stop_.

“Charles. I promise you we will study for the whole weekend, if you come with me and rest now,” Erik bargains. Charles sighs. He nods and concedes.

They pack up Charles’ bag and Erik carries it out of the library. Charles is slumped over under Erik’s arm and Erik settles them on the low concrete garden wall near the pedestrian crossing. Erik pulls Charles’ hood up over Charles’ brown hair. Charles shrugs away, _Stop_. He keeps the hood up though.

Azazel’s ancient Datsun skids up to the kerb. Erik opens the passenger door for Charles but he signs, _Stop fussing_ , and climbs into the back. He drifts off during the drive, curled into a ball. 

Erik picks him up and carries him from the car to Erik’s room. Charles barely notices. He tugs Charles’ boots off, rolls him out of his coat and tucks him firmly in the duvet. 

When he returns to his room with water and paracetamol, Charles is shaking and hot. Erik strips down and climbs under the covers. Charles struggles, pushes at Erik and signs, _Stop. You’ll get sick_. But there is not much fight in him and Erik cocoons his boyfriend, intending to be his heat until he can make it for himself.

The next day, Erik doesn’t attempt to shrug Charles off when it’s his turn to be shivering with fever and wrapped up in his tiny love.

 

 **5\. I love you**  
Erik has convinced Charles to take a Sunday off from the library and the lab. There’s been something building inside him, making him itchy, edgy, and he needs to ride, have the road spit out behind his tyres. He goes to Musselburgh and gets his bike from his parents garage. 

“You doing alright, son?” his dad asks, when Erik is drinking a glass of water over the kitchen sink. 

“Yeah,” says Erik. “Yeah.” he says again. He smiles. He really couldn’t have held it back anymore. And that’s the source of the itch, the boiling in his skin that is Charles and _Charles_ and Erik’s life now that Charles is gravity and Erik is the weight of all this love. 

“Want to tell us about it?” 

“Yeah. Is Ruthie here?”

“No, but your Mum’s in the garden.”

Erik follows his Dad out the kitchen door. He believes families are training grounds. So he stands in front of his parents and uses the chance to practise saying the words, “I’m in love.”

When he picks Charles up and clicks the helmet on him, Charles looks so adorable -all big eyes and grin- Erik opens his mouth. But he can’t say the words yet.

He drives them out of town and past Brighton, Charles a comforting press on his back. They ride with bush on their right and the ocean on their left.

It’s not long before Erik is slowing down and pulling to the side of the road. He parks in a place that isn’t really suitable, behind some trees, close to the bank down to the beach. He hangs their helmets on the bike and leads Charles back through the bush a small ways. There’s a tree, overhanging a short drop to rocks and the sea. It’s branches are thick and it’s roots deep. Erik sits on one of the branches that hugs the rock face and forms a natural bench, leaving plenty of room for Charles right next to him. They can see the water washing over rocks and sand. They can see the horizon through gaps in the foliage. 

They sit there in quietude.

Eventually, Erik takes Charles’ hand. “This is my special place, my favourite place. I’ve never brought anyone here but… I thought you would… fathom it.”

Charles squeezes his hand. It seems like a reassurance, but Erik is so keyed up, he can only pretend calm for a handful of moments before he has to ask, “What are you thinking?”

Charles smiles. It’s blissful and, as always, evokes something nebulous in Erik. Charles lifts his free hand and signs as he mouths, _I love you_.

Erik lets out his tension as a breath. “I love you too. So much,” he says. Charles kisses him firmly and they rapidly get off the branch when they wobble.

 

 **+1 time when no signs are needed**  
There are many signs for love and when one is Charles Xavier’s boyfriend, it’s helpful to know each one. Charles doesn’t merely like things; he loves them. He doesn’t sign that’s great; he signs _Love it_. When Erik cooks for him or pulls the bed covers back into hospital corners, Charles signs _Made with love_. Charles finger spells _I love you_ into Erik’s palm under the table; he signs it instead of waving goodbye. He mouths it into Erik’s skin in bed. 

Charles takes Erik out for coffee and pastries. They are eating silently, watching each other, the connection greater than a touch. It has not become boring in the five years they’ve been together. A server stops by and asks if he can take their plates and cups. Erik tells him yes and passes the empty crockery over. When he turns back around Charles is on one knee, holding an open ring box on the flat of his hand. 

And then Erik doesn’t really need to know any sign language. He doesn’t need to use any words. He just nods his head, he wonders how his cheeks got wet, he laughs and throws his arms around Charles. And then he doesn’t let go.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware this isn't very anon but the fic wanted to be written like this and I'm not particularly sorry.
> 
> תודה לאל = Thank God


End file.
